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Releasing a nervous breath, I type his number into my contacts and start to draft the first text.
Milo:
Hey, this is Milo from 502, you fixed my stove. This is kind of embarrassing but my cat pushed a few of his toys into the sink yesterday and I’ve been too afraid to try and get them out. One of them is heavy and I think it might have dented one of the garbage disposal blades. Is there a tool I can use to fix that?
Putting my hands into the dark scary sink drain was not fun. But I did manage to dent one of the blades with Bush’s half metal, half plastic toy balls. I don’t know that it’s physically possible for a cat to create enough force to do the damage I did, but I’m too desperate to see Anthony again to care.
Asking for a tool to fix it gives him the choice of whether he wants to do it himself or offer advice. I’m really hoping he’s not going to tell me to go buy some pliers or something. Putting the small kitty toys in there was scary enough, I don’t want to play surgeon with the sink too.
Hottie Handyman:
I can come by and check it out. I’ll bring an extra blade just in case. Are you free for me to come today?
Pumping my fist in the air like a goof, I cheer, smiling so wide my cheeks hurt.
Milo:
Thank you so much, today works! I’ll be here all day.
Maybe that makes me sound lame, but hey, if I’m going to date this man, he should know I’m a homebody. I like taking naps on the couch while watching movies, and occasionally rotting in bed while I read a smutty gay romance on my Kindle. If Anthony wants a piece of this? He’ll have to accept that.
Hottie Handyman:
Be there in an hour.
Milo:
Sounds good.
Oh goodness, how the hell do I wait an hour? Anticipation is an awful feeling.
The naughty part of me is tempted to hop back in bed and play with myself but I can’t. The potential to be caught with my cock in my hand when he knocks is way too nerve-wracking. Besides, I’ve been jerking my meat raw for the past eight days. I haven’t beaten off this much since high school.
Normally, I’d fuck myself with a suction dildo in the shower, dreaming about some big and powerful man driving into me. I know myself well enough to know that if I fuck my ass while thinking about Anthony, I’ll get hard as soon as I see him next.
It’s bad enough that I can’t stop thinking about how hot it would be to kneel at his feet while he fixes my sink, warming his cock with my throat.
I shiver, feeling my pants start to lift into a bulge. It’s been years since I’ve had a good face fuck and it’s a travesty of epic proportions. Something about the weight of a nice thick cock stretching open the back of my mouth and sliding into my throat gets me so fucking horny.
No, I silently chastise myself. Get it together Milo.
I’ll just put on some TV and doom scroll on my phone. Bush will sit in my lap to nap and I’ll stop thinking about Anthony.
Fat chance of that.
Thankfully, the time passes relatively fast. At the fifty-five-minute mark, I carefully pull my snoozing cat from my lap and check myself over in the mirror.
When I dressed earlier, I decided to go with a pair of good, tan corduroy slacks and a basic but soft blue sweater. My favorite clothes are the ones that feel nice when I put them on. Rubbing some last-minute cologne on my wrists, I mess with my hair, making sure it isn’t too fluffy.
When a soft knock rings out, my eyes widen and I rush out of my bathroom. Jogging past my kitchen, I slide to the door, sock-covered feet slipping on my polished wood floors. I breathe out, unlatching the locks and swinging the solid wood door open.
“Hi,” I greet lamely, stepping aside so that he can come in. He’s wearing a cut off shirt and dark wash jeans, such a simple combination but so mouthwatering on him.
“Hello,” he says in return. Why is his voice so deep and dreamy?
“Thank you for coming,” I say, biting my lip as I shut the door with my back to him.
He’s already walking to the kitchen when I turn back around. “No problem.”
